


and the day that we watch the death of the sun

by aobahime (hereiamramblingagain)



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Azure Moon - Freeform, Blowjobs, Choking, Established Relationship, F/M, Female Byleth, Not betad, Penetration, Post Time Skip, consensual feral dimitri, dimitri doesnt want to hurt her, safe bdsm practices?, this is just me exposing myself tbh, weapon play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:00:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23242150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereiamramblingagain/pseuds/aobahime
Summary: Byleth loved him dearly, and every gentle touch and loving caress made her love him more.But there was one part of her left that wanted Dimitri to be absolutely vile to her again. Feral. Unhinged.They were in the cathedral. She wouldn’t lie that this location had gotten roped into her fantasies.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 3
Kudos: 132





	and the day that we watch the death of the sun

**Author's Note:**

> so after youve read this id really rather you didnt look at me alright? 
> 
> fair warning for consensual “feral” dimitri, where he tries rly hard to pretend hes a meanie. everything is great except for VERY unsafe choking practices but thats why its fan FICTION ok dont choke people like that 
> 
> anyways enjoy

Dimitri had been better for weeks now. He’d come to his senses, opened up to his classmates, and begun to take care of himself again. He was still a shell of the person he once was, but there was light in his eye. 

Which is why Byleth was finally comfortable voicing something she’d needed to say to him. That when he had pushed her and spoke harshly to her it did something to her that it shouldn’t have. When he towered over to intimidate her and make her feel small all he did was create a burning in her body that she couldn’t drive away. 

It lingered, even now that they were together, even after their first time, and every time after. He was big and inexperienced but that only led to so much of the roughness that she craved. He was tender and treated her like a queen and it filled almost all of her heart up. She loved him dearly, and every gentle touch and loving caress made her love him more. 

But there was one gap left that wanted him to be absolutely vile to her again. Feral. Unhinged. 

It took some convincing. Research and heartfelt discussions of safety and precautions. He wanted to treat her so good, even when she wanted him to treat her so bad. 

They were in the cathedral. She wouldn’t lie that this location had gotten roped into her fantasies. Dimitri loomed over her, fully clothed. His armor looked sharp and cold, his lance leaning just out of arm's reach. His fur cape doubled his silhouette. 

Byleth was dressed down. She was honestly freezing, but knew it wouldn’t last. Stepping towards him, her hand reaching out like it had a hundred times. 

His hand snatches her wrist out of the air, gloved fingers curling around her arm roughly. “Dimitri,” she pleads, voice breathless, leaning into her role. The air between them snaps, and their dance has begun. 

He yanks her forward and she stumbles into him, his other hand squeezing her throat. His single eye pierces her as he squeezes, lips curled to show his teeth. “You’re disgusting,” he drawls out, voice so deep Byleth can feel it in her gut. “If only they could see you like this.” 

She gives a tug at his arm, halfhearted. She doesn’t want him to let go, and her panting is harsh and empty against the pressure on her neck. Dimitri tightens his grip slightly in response. “You don’t have to hold back, _professor_. Struggle as hard as you like, but you’re no match for me.” 

He’s right. The corners of her vision start to go dark and she is wet, she can feel it. Every twitch of his hands, glance down her body, breath from his lips has her aching. His face softens briefly, searching her eyes. She blinks at him, hoping to communicate any of her feelings. Dimitri’s brow furrows again, unable to hide a small smirk. 

He shoves her back, causing her to stumble and trip. His grip lingers on her hand long enough that she spins and falls on her knees. His shadow looms over her. 

“Get away from me,” he growls. 

Byleth starts to crawl down the main aisle of the church, stones rough in her knees and palms. There’s a gentle scraping, a few clicks of his heels against the stone floor, and then the chilling press of Areadbhar against the side of her neck. 

He uses the blunt edge to roll her over and she lays flat on the floor. Dimitri presses the tip just under her chin to tilt her head up, digging it into skin with just enough pressure that she feels it nick. 

The lance is cold as he drags it gently down to her shirt, using it to lift up the bottom hem. “Off.” 

She sits up slowly, making sure it's allowed, before pulling the garment off over her head. She reaches for her bra questioningly. 

“Allow me,” he sneers, and she catches how red his face is as he hooks the arced blade under the front piece and tugs it up, tearing her bra in two. 

“Goddess,” she breathes. 

Dimitri steps over her, dragging the tip of the lance back up to her neck. “Don’t call to her in this state,” his voice is breathless, and she can hear him work to get it more level. The lance finds its way to her lip. The control he has over it, even in this situation is intoxicating. He’s a minute amount of pressure away from drawing blood. She’s seen the way he can deftly find critical arteries and how cleanly (or violently) he can end a life. His voice brings her back into focus. “You worship _me_ like this.”

“Yes,” Byleth mouths the word more than anything else. Her tongue darts out to lick at Areadbhar, dragging against the side. 

Dimitri grunts as she does, even more affected by the action than she’d expected. She watches him squirm a little, widening his stance a bit to relieve some pressure. Against all odds a wave of pride runs through her. Composing himself, he leans down, filling her periphery with his broad shoulders and cape. Gripping her face, edges of gauntlets digging into her cheeks, he lays his lance down with far more care than he shows her. “On your hands and knees. Shorts off.” 

She fumbles with the button and pushes them down as she rolls over. Dimitri tosses his cape down in front of her, wordlessly herding her towards it. Gratefully she kneels on it, the floor softened. The intention is tender beyond words, and she smiles with her head turned away. She’s left in nothing but her tights and boots. 

It had been uncomfortable to wear her lace tights with nothing underneath but the way she hears Dimitri huff now as she lifts her ass towards him, makes it completely worth it. Armor clinks and fabric shifts outside of her vision. She obediently keeps her head down, ears working overtime to hear what he’s doing. 

Dimitri finally kneels behind her, gloved hands tracing up her legs. Byleth shivers as he gropes at her thighs roughly, and in the quiet of the cathedral she hears him panting. 

“Are you doing alright?” his voice is soft from behind her. 

“Yes, your Majesty,” she teases, and he hums in appreciation. 

His hands linger on her behind before he digs his fingers into the tights and rips them down the middle seam. The strength of the action throws her off balance slightly, forcing her down to her elbows. Dimitri drags one finger, broadened by his glove through her folds and breathes, “You are _soaked_ , professor.“ 

“For you,” 

“Indeed.” he weaves a hand in her hair and yanks her head towards him, using her gasp to stick his dirtied finger in her mouth. She laps at him, the musky taste of the leather filling her mouth. He fumbles with clothing behind her, and she whines when he takes his hand away. 

Finally, she can feel him press up behind her. He drags the head around, teasing her clit and she whines. She’s soaked and sticky, and as he thrusts against her folds he slips as if it were nothing. He grips at her thighs, pressing them tighter together so he can get more friction. 

“Dimitri,” she whines, and in response he hits her sharply across her rear. 

“Is that any way to refer to me?” 

Tears prick her eyes, “Sorry, y-your majesty,” 

He grunts in appreciation, still fucking up against her, not quite inside, and it’s driving her insane. The fleeting friction against her makes her cry out and grind back against him, legs shaking. 

Byleth squirms desperately hoping she can somehow catch him at the right angle for him to slip inside. “Please,” she whines out, “please, inside me,” 

“This isn’t about you, _professor_.” Each word is punctuated by a movement that just wasn’t enough. “I’m quite enjoying this.” 

“Please!” she cries again, the constant fleeting pressure against her clit making her oversensitive. “Please, any way you want, just please fuck me!” 

“Be _quiet_.” The command echos, Dimitri’s voice harsher and louder than it has been. 

She stops begging, but she can’t help the whimpers and gasps that escape her, whines still echoing through the cathedral. His fingers are bruising in the soft flesh of her hips until they’re suddenly gone, and she holds her breath to listen to the rustling of fabric, not daring to look. In his movements, he thrusts forward, causing her to moan sharply. 

“I said _quiet_ professor.” His voice is low and dangerous. She bites her lip to keep her mouth shut, but it's too late. Something moves in front of her unfocused eyes, and there is pressure on her throat again. Byleth is pulled back, spine arching to keep Dimitri between her legs while following her neck. 

His belt, she realizes hazily, is firmly wrapped around her throat and she breathes out a moan, her body shuddering now that it is unable to make noise. She can feel him adjust his grip on the leather and tug, yanking her down into his lap. 

“Spread your legs for me.” 

Byleth unclenches her from around Dimitri, letting herself slide a bit lower. He holds her up by the pressure on the belt, his other hand leaving her hip to guide himself into her. 

_Finally!_ her mind screams as he uses the belt to pull her down onto his length. She gasps and claws at the leather, avoiding doing anything close to their signal. It hurt in a way his hands didn’t, and she _loved_ it. He couldn’t carefully put pressure where he wanted and loosen up at a moment's notice. The belt was a cutting pressure straight across and made her choke in the best way possible. He pulls back as he thrusts up, and she is vaguely aware of drool sliding down her chin as her mouth hangs open uselessly. 

Dimitri hunches over with the effort of fucking her, mouth right by her ear. Grunts and growls escape him, making her skin tingle. Every sound shoots to Byleth’s core, her own choked moans forcing their way out of her mouth, punctuated by his brutal rhythm. He begins to curse, the unholy language and sounds of their actions echoing blasphemously through the ruined cathedral. 

Her hands drift, one arm across her breasts to slow their near painful bouncing, the other digging into her own thigh. He reaches for her hand with his free one, guiding it to her clit. Byleth cries out, desperate and sensitive, but all the sound she can manage is a choked wheeze. 

Regardless, she takes the permission willingly, scrambling to touch herself. Reaching lower to gather more wetness on her fingers, Byleth’s hand brushes where Dimitri is pummeling into her, causing them both to gasp. She’s desperately close as she really begins to touch herself. Dimitri lets up the pressure on her throat just enough to listen to her gasp and moan. Her thighs shake where she straddles him, knees digging into the matted fur of his cape. 

“You are really enjoying being used like this, aren’t you _professor_?” Dimitri can’t help how breathless his voice is, and his tone is more tender than he intends, almost incredulous. Regardless, Byleth whimpers, nodding as much as she can muster. He’s clearly smirking as he says, “Are you going to come for me, just like this? Even before I do, while I just use you for my own pleasure?”

Byleth moans in response, and he yanks the belt back. 

“I want an answer, _professor_. Will you come for me like this?” 

“Y-yes, please, just like-“ her voice is hoarse and cracking as she cries out, her body trying to buckle forward with the force of her orgasm. She’s held up by the belt and a firm hand on her waist as she spasms, clenching around Dimitri. He fucks her through it, unrelenting. 

A few moments later, with barely any time to recover the pressure on her throat is gone and he lets her topple forward. He slips out as Byleth collapses to her elbows and knees, and she whines, so suddenly empty. 

“Do you really think I would honor you by coming inside you?” He groans slightly as he stands. “Come here.” 

She tries to draw herself up and turn around but she feels like jelly. When shes close enough, he takes a handful of her hair and yanks her forward, the head of his dick smearing against her cheek. His looming silhouette swims in her vision. 

“Well?” he thrusts his hips forward. “Finish it.” 

Tears prick the corners of her eyes as she sets to work, quickly taking as much of him in her mouth as she can. Her throat aches from the choking and she’s dizzy, the only thing she is capable of focusing on is his dick in her mouth. She can taste herself on him and it makes her drool, the mess sliding down her chest. 

After a few brief moments of letting her do it herself, Dimitri grows impatient enough to grab her head and pull her down. He grinds against her face, and through her blurry eyes she catches sight of his expression, labored and _desperate_. Even with her in this state, he looks at her lovingly despite the way he slams into the back of her throat. 

Byleth is almost completely spaced out when he comes, spilling himself into her mouth as he curses from above her. Tears and drool slide down her face as she does her best to swallow, but her throat is so sore that she’s sure she doesn’t get it all. She sits back onto her knees and pants, her body oversensitive. Eventually she tunes back into Dimitri’s labored breathing and the sound of fabric and armor as he tucks himself away. Just as she registers how cold she is, he kneels down in front of her. 

“Are you okay?” he whispers, as if saying it any louder would break their game. 

She nods, blearily meeting his eyes and smiling. 

“D-do you need any more?” 

Byleth laughs weakly and shakes her head no. He nods and looks her up and down, adorable furrow in his brow. Within moments he bundles her in his fur cloak, hoisting her into his arms. She gasps a bit in surprise as a cold bit of armor is pressed into her arm, and she burrows deeper into the cloak. Warm lips meet her forehead, and Dimitri carries her out of the cathedral. By the time they cross the bridge, she is practically asleep in his arms. 

“Thank you, Dima,” she mumbles. 

“Of course, my love.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!! 
> 
> i got accepted into a zine to write more dimitri smut for yall so look how far weve come in a matter of months right?? 
> 
> as always comments fuel me and give me mana AND hit points so leave those pls and ty


End file.
